


last night, this morning

by riyku



Series: Skam Sunday [27]
Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, a fic of very little plot, maybe isak's mouth deserves its own tag too, true fucking love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 09:32:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14329545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riyku/pseuds/riyku
Summary: Forget breakfast.





	last night, this morning

**Author's Note:**

> hello. happy sunday! 
> 
> thanks forever and always to tebtosca, who is honestly the best fairy godmother a slash writer like me could ever hope to have.
> 
> this one goes a stretch back in the timeline, set after the first clip of s3e8, and this ship has probably sailed, but eh. i felt like writing it. thank you for indulging me.
> 
> hope you enjoy!

Even's walking Isak back toward his room and the apartment still smells like the breakfast he cooked, eggs and everything else, and the radio is still turned up, switched from one crappy pop song to another, and a minute ago they'd been dancing. Or Even had been dancing _at_ him, singing along to words he only half knew, and Isak had been pretending to be irritated, and then pretending to be embarrassed, but he's really neither of those things.

Forget breakfast, and the chili or whatever Eskild so kindly offered, they’re on the other side of Isak's bedroom door now, the closed-in safe side, and Isak really should have thought to dial the radio down, but Even's pulling Isak's shirt over his head, and pulling the shirt he borrowed from Isak over his own head, and Isak's gonna write a thank you letter to whoever came up with the idea for sweatpants, because they go down so easy.

It all ends up in a heap on top of their layers from last night. Even's hoodie and Isak's flannel, the snapback he ditched and the boxers Even had ditched for him. A belt buckle against Isak's heel, clanking on the floor as the two of them scuff through the mess and head toward the bed with it's lumped up blanket that still smells like them.

A few minutes ago Even opened his mouth and his heart came out of it in a deep, soft whisper. And a few minutes ago Isak, who has lied himself into and out of more situations than he cares to count, opened his mouth and told the truth. 

He’s standing in the spot where Even sunk to his knees last night and went down on him, and his breath is coming in sideways, and he’s watching Even sprawl onto his bed like he owns it. Red marks are standing out on Even’s throat and Isak put them there. His lips are kissed puffy and Isak did that too. 

Even takes up so much space. All of the bed, most of Isak's mind, and he's reaching out toward Isak, an invitation in his smile and the spots of color on his cheeks. Sitting up, pushing the blanket into the corner, confident in a way Isak wants to be. Confident in his body, and Isak's body, and this thing between them. 

Last night, Even put his mouth on him and now he seems hellbent on doing it again, fingers spanned around Isak's thighs, his lips trailing downward. A warm, wet tongue and a hum when Isak puts his hand on his shoulder. The hum turns into a question as Isak pushes him backward, morphs into something lower as Isak crawls in after him. 

Isak straddles his hips and kisses Even, opens himself up for Even's tongue and sucks on it. He rolls his hips, grinds down a little and feels Even shiver, big hands on his ass, wrapped around his waist, Even's hard dick putting down damp trails of precome on Isak's stomach.

"Can I?" Isak asks, and slips down Even's body, fitting himself into the space Even makes for him between his legs, and Even's looking at him, pushing himself up to his elbows, wide eyes and an open-mouth grin that reminds Isak of the first time they kissed. The laugh reminds Isak of it as well, breathy and true and like it's been surprised out of him.

"You don't have to ask. You never have…" Even trails off mid-thought and his grin changes shape the instant Isak gets a hand on his dick, slides his fist along it. 

It's not payback, or a favor for a favor sorta thing, and Isak hopes Even isn't thinking of it that way, because Isak wants it. Really fucking wants it. Needs to know what Even tastes like, feel the heat and weight of him in his mouth and sure, it's new and it's kinda scary, but it's Even. It's Even who's tracing Isak's bottom lip, and it's Even who's breathing hard, looking down at him with dark eyes.

"This is the first time you've done this," Even says, some of the slur clearing from his voice, and he slides up higher on the bed, back against the wall. It's not a question. 

Isak tries on a smirk, a shrug, lands on a nod since there's no use trying to hide it, watches as Even's expression turns gentle, swings right into heated again as Isak jacks him a couple more times, milks precome from Even's slit, sneaks his tongue out to taste it.

A few tiny kisses to Even's tip, and Isak's watched enough porn to have a pretty good idea about how this is supposed to go, but none of that has prepared him for the heat of it, the lack of air as he takes Even in, how the muscles in Even's thighs jump under him. It's so different from Isak's late night experiments, the fingers he would shove into his mouth and push back and back to see how far he could go before he'd gag. 

Even isn't an experiment. He's a living, breathing boy with a body that's spring-coiled tight and a heart that Isak can feel beating when he flattens his hand on his chest. Even's plainly holding back, and his cock is long like the rest of him, feels so thick and big in Isak's mouth. Isak's pulse is like a bass track in his ears sped up to double time, and Even has his leg draped across his back now, the heel of his foot lined up to the center of it, and that little extra weight only makes the rest of it seem so much more real. 

It's impossible to take Even down all the way, to go as far as he wants to, the head of Even's dick tickling dangerously at the back of his throat. The scent of sweat is pushing away the soapy smell on Even's skin, and Even's saying stuff like oh fuck and oh god and Isak, Isak, Isak, and wrapping his hand around the back of Isak's head, digging his fingers into his hair and it makes Isak's hips jump, makes him screw down against the mattress, shoot before he can even get a hand on himself.

Isak's chin feels slick and it's probably spit, and that's okay. Some things are better when they're sloppy, and he's calling bullshit on all those guys he's watched with their pornstar moans, because he can't catch enough air to breathe and something in him feels like it's about to rattle loose, and now Even's switched to talking about how good it feels, how hot and wet and oh god Isak, oh god. 

It's unlikely, but it feels like Even's dick is growing thicker, pounding with the heart Isak can still feel beating under his hand. Small, stutter-starts of Even's hips and he's trying to haul Isak up and off, but Isak circles his fingers around Even's wrist, fucks his mouth down as far as he can go as Even starts to come, sputters and chokes at the flood that fills his mouth, bitter and salty and so much bigger than the traces of himself he'd kissed out of Even's mouth last night.

He pulls off, sucks in a deep breath and before he can wipe his mouth off, Even is yanking him up, urging him onto his back and laying on top of him. Crushing him into the mattress, chest to chest, legs tangled, his tongue in Isak's mouth, licking him clean, and Isak's mind is stuck on repeat, thinking not a crush. Not a crush.

Isak knows what a crush feels like, he lived inside of one for years, hidden and stubbornly hopeful. This thing with Even started out as a fixation, turned into a fantasy before it became what it is now, and Isak doesn’t quite know the right way to define it, doesn’t quite know if he wants to, but the one thing he’s sure of is that it’s not a crush, and it never has been. 

\--end

thanks for reading!


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